Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1)

by eden Hudson

  I rubbed my face with both hands and sighed. I needed to think about this. I needed time to really do my homework, like Tempie said. And Kathan had enough charming devil in him to offer me the space to think and research.

  Tempie stood up and grabbed my hand.

  “He wants us to come to the parlor,” she said.

  Tough

  I wished I could’ve said something smart when Mikal blew into the parlor, but even if I’d had my voice, I probably wouldn’t have been able to talk when I saw her wearing Colt’s gray Lucky-logo shirt with the armholes that were torn almost all the way to the bottom. He’d had that crappy thing since before Dad died.

  “Admiring my shirt?” Mikal asked, doing a spin so I could see her wings poking out the armholes and the lacy red underwear she had on. “Your brother and I were busy and this was the first thing I could find to throw on. I’m anxious to get back to him, too, so if you don’t mind, let’s keep this brief. What do you want?”

  I didn’t really know. Plans weren’t my strong suit. The only thing I’d come up with while I was driving was to floor it through the front of the mansion, but seeing the barn just sitting there like nothing had changed had made me wonder whether the basketball hoop was still in the hayloft. And why hadn’t Kathan torn the barn down when he burned the farmhouse? I wound up sitting there long enough for a foot soldier on rounds to see me and bring me in.

  “You’ve been drinking,” Mikal said.

  Not enough.

  “Well, if you came for a threesome, I’m game, but you’ll have to ask Colter first.”

  I looked around the parlor, wondering whether Rian had brought Desty in here. Seemed like this was always the first place they threw me.

  If I tried, I could sort of see the place through her eyes—a mansion I’d never been in before, that wasn’t built on the ashes of the farmhouse I grew up in, that I’d never been dragged into in chains. Not hating the place would make it look different.

  “Or did you come to beg me to release Colt?” Mikal asked. “I won’t, but it’s nice to be asked. Makes it seem like you care what happens to him.”

  Somebody doesn’t like being ignored. I kept on looking around like I hadn’t heard her.

  Three ugly-ass windows lined the top half of the southern wall. Pieces of red and black stained glass showed an angel with a flaming sword in the process of falling from Heaven, then rising up on Earth with tar-covered wings, then leading an army to war. I shivered, then winced at the spike of pain in my side. Those freaking windows were creepy, the way they kept trying to move and change.

  “He’s been talking a lot about you lately, Tough,” Mikal said, following me with her eyes. “Seeing you the other night must’ve set him off. I didn’t know he saved you from a siren back when you were still a blushing virgin. Two teenage boys alone in the woods—you probably lit up her radar like a pair of fighter jets. You should see the picture quality in Colt’s brain. The peripheral’s detailed enough to see you high-tailing it while he fought her.”

  I took a deep breath, deep enough to pop that rib out and shoot pain in every direction. Mikal was just trying to piss me off, get me to attack her or do something else stupid. Like coming here in the first place didn’t point to serious brain damage.

  She stepped up on the platform at the east end of the room and sat on the edge of the King-of-Halo chair, crossing her legs.

  “He’s getting a little foggy on the timeline, though. That siren thing was about a year before he kicked you out for selling it to Mitzi and Jason, right?” She looked down at my fly, then back up at me. “That’s my Colt—always fighting for the lost cause.”

  I’ve never hit a woman before in my life, NP or not, but I had to dig my fingers into the broken rib to keep from going after Mikal. For the most part, the pain made the urge to knock her pretty white teeth down her throat fade away, but I had to do something. I made the sign of the cross at her with my forearms.

  I blinked and Mikal was standing over me holding a flaming sword like the one from the window. She brought it up to my face and the flames stretched toward me until they singed the stubble on that cheek.

  “Colt tells me that you had night terrors for years after I killed your mother. What frightened you the most, Tough? The sound of her skull cracking under my boot? Or was it the screaming? Those rock magazines were always saying that Shannon could scream like a banshee.”

  Something I didn’t know fallen angels could do—show you the past when you’re looking into their eyes. Mikal made me see a few of things she’d done way back in the Old Testament days. The babies were the worst. If I wasn’t so great at not thinking about stuff, I’d probably still be having flashbacks.

  “I fought under His signs before time existed, Tough. I left Him, and your tiny cockroach brain will never even begin to understand what that means.”

  My lungs started losing it because I hadn’t taken a breath in just short of forever.

  Mikal smiled, leaned closer, and whispered, “Throw that cross up again. It reminds me of all the fun I’m going to have when your turn comes.”

  Behind us, someone started clapping. Mikal stepped back and took a bow. The sword disappeared.

  “Well done, Tough,” Kathan said, leaning with his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Most people who see Mikal’s little display embarrass themselves one way or another. Pissing their pants seems to be the most popular. Interestingly enough, the second-most popular is uncontrollable erections, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt considering your age and the fact that Rian stopped you with a beautiful young lady earlier.”

  Kathan was alone, which threw me because I’d assumed Desty would be with him. But the bastard did look like he had just fallen out of bed with one or two beautiful girls. Maybe even beautiful twins.

  “Heard you almost made it out of town tonight,” Kathan said. He stepped up onto the platform and sat in the King-of-Halo chair Mikal had just left. “I think we’re going to have to shorten your leash a little, kid.”

  I folded my hands together and pretended to beg sarcastically, but the way Kathan laughed evaporated some of my attitude.

  “How’s this? Every day until you have a protector, you’re answering to Mikal.” He cocked his head at her. “You and your familiar can head into town once a day, can’t you?”

  Mikal grinned.

  “We’ve been wanting to get out more,” she said. “And anyway, I’d like to scout around for new meat. I don’t think Colter’s going to be with us much longer.”

  Kathan nodded and smiled at me. “So, you came looking for trouble in true Whitney style. Was that enough? I know Mikal’s got something she calls The Ryder Special if you want some more. Or I guess you could pick up where Colt left off and see what she comes up with on the fly.”

  I flipped him off.

  Well, the sign of the cross didn’t bother them, so what was I supposed to do? It was the only other sign language I knew.

  “Show him out,” Kathan said.

  This time I didn’t blink. I know because I wouldn’t take my eyes off of Big, Bad, Power-Trip Kathan for a second. The whole room did a sort of skip, then Mikal had ahold of the back of my shirt collar, half-pushing, half-pulling me toward the door. She was a whole hell of a lot stronger than she looked and apparently she could do the radiant heat trick Kathan had used on my chains the other night, because when her hand bumped the back of my neck it sizzled.

  The parlor door swung open and Desty and another girl came in. I know I was already supposed to know that they were identical twins, but it’s hard to get what that means until they’re standing next to each other. They had the exact same face.

  Except there was a red mark under Desty’s eye that was going to bruise-out before too long. At least she was still dressed. The twin who was obviously not Desty—Tempie—had on some super-hot but not revealing enough lingerie and there were orange-ish streaks in her hair. Speaking of uncontrollable erections… Too bad about that
hunk of metal in her nose, though.

  “Since you’re here, Tough, you can drive Modesty back to town,” Kathan said. He passed me and Mikal and stopped between the twins. He was close enough that Desty had to feel him breathing on her hair. “If you would like to go, Modesty.”

  I’m not usually the jealous type. If the girl I like loves my best friend, I get over it. But when Kathan ran his hand down Desty’s back and she flinched away, I felt like tearing him apart. I don’t know if that counts as jealousy, but she obviously didn’t want him to touch her, so I didn’t want him to, either. Whatever you call it, it’s a good thing Mikal hadn’t let go of me yet or Kathan probably would’ve killed me and then Desty would’ve had to walk back to town.

  Desty looked at Tempie, who was wrapped around Cop-a-Feel Kathan’s opposite side.

  “I need to go,” Desty said. “But I’ll be back.”

  “Okay. Here—” Tempie gave Desty a hug and kissed her on the puffy spot under her eye. The swelling went down and the red disappeared. “Better?”

  “How did you—”

  “Power,” Tempie said. “I told you.”

  Desty sighed and repeated herself—“I’ll be back.”

  “Where’re you staying?” Tempie asked.

  Desty glanced at me.

  “With Tough,” she said.

  Colt

  I have a surprise for you, Colter. The tar-covered wings inside my head crackled and burned hotter, recreating the feeling of when Mikal first inflicted her essence on my brain—high-voltage current in places where there shouldn’t be any sensation.

  What, did you nail a cat to the floor and set a mouse loose? I asked. That was an illustration Dad used to use back when he was still preaching.

  We’re going to the bar tomorrow night to watch Tough play, Mikal said.

  It was a trap. One of us was the cat nailed to the floor and the other was the mouse Mikal was going to smash.

  I had this sick urge to laugh at the image of blood and guts spraying out from under a sledgehammer and no way to be sure the feeling came from Mikal. What if it was me? What if the black noise was somehow seeping past her essence?

  No, she wouldn’t let that happen. I was hers to destroy. Letting me take myself down wouldn’t be any fun.

  I’ve never had a familiar long enough for him to fall in love with me, Mikal said. I like it.

  Fuck you, I said. This wasn’t love. It was some messed up combination of Fairhaven Syndrome and self-preservation.

  You know you’ve lost when you spend the majority of your energy trying to convince yourself you haven’t, she said. It’s all right to admit that you love me. I saved you when no one else would. Not your father, not your family, and not God, no matter how much you begged Him.

  Going for the hard-sell today, I said. Tired of waiting for me to crack?

  She laughed. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with you, Colt.

  Straightjacket sleeves jerked my arms tight around my chest. I couldn’t breathe. My heart couldn’t pump hard enough to force blood through the compression. Even though I knew it was an illusion, I started to panic. Bad dogs get punished.

  Now, Mikal said, Who saved you from the black noise, Colter?

  I pictured her beating Mom to death. Handing Kathan the sword for Dad’s execution. Chaining Sissy to that telephone pole and setting her on fire. Cutting Ryder to pieces with a big-ass hunting knife.

  Selective memory, Mikal said. Remember what it was like after everybody left you all alone. Just you and the black noise.

  For once, Mikal’s tar-covered wings receded completely and the light and sound and color outside my brain overpowered everything inside. A grid of glowing red lines stretched out from Mikal and filled the room. Thick, red drops hung from the places where the lines connected, like arterial spray on a spider web.

  I could feel my body shaking, cold sweat, an adrenaline high. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Not real. The lines weren’t real. Only crazy people thought that things no one else could see were real.

  “Not there. They’re not there. They’re not—”

  But I was too focused on fighting the lines to hold the black noise off. It rolled up my spine and into my brain. It had been waiting for an opening. It was always waiting. It spread out through my head, a nightmare asylum of lunatics filling every windowless, padded cell with the wrong kind of laughter. Oh, shit, that was me laughing—sick, wrecked shrieks no sane person could make.

  “Focus on me, Colt.” Mikal’s voice was almost lost in the racket. “Who made the black noise go away?”

  “You did.”

  “Beg me and I’ll make it go away again.”

  I couldn’t get a full breath, couldn’t move no matter how hard I fought. Trying to think through the black noise was impossible. The only thing I knew for sure was that I’d brought this on myself. Mikal had told me that if I was bad she would put me back in the lunatic’s cell. I must’ve wanted to be punished. I must’ve been dying for it to be such a smartass when I’d known—

  No, it wasn’t real. It was in my head. It was the black noise.

  “Please, God, don’t let it be real. I can’t do it again. I can’t take it.”

  “Beg me, Colter, not Him. Only I can make the black noise go away.”

  Something tried to tell me to resist or serve, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t anyone to save me—no one but Mikal. If she cast me off, everyone would know about the black noise. They’d lock me away in a mental hospital, keep me tied up in a straightjacket, electrocute me and drug me until I was too brain-dead to be crazy. Mikal had done it because it scared me enough to make me obey, but when I stopped being able to fight her outside, she had taken the straightjacket off. She had promised we wouldn’t have to go back if I was good.

  My mind latched onto that—if I was good, Mikal wouldn’t make me go back.

  “I can save you, Colter,” she said. “Beg me and I’ll save you.”

  “Please—” —please, Mikal.

  She hugged me to her chest. Her wings wrapped around us. Inside, her burning-tar essence closed around my brain again, forcing the black noise out. The sound of screaming overwhelmed the psychotic laughing, then both faded.

  That drowning sensation was gratitude.

  Tough

  Desty didn’t say anything until we were almost back to town.

  “Sorry to make you lie for me. I just kind of panicked. Like Tempie would insist I stay there if I didn’t already have— Here, you can drop me off at the bar.”

  I shot her a look and tapped the radio clock. Rowdy’s had been closed for an hour and a half.

  “I know, but my backpack’s behind the dumpster.”

  I tried to think of a way to tell Desty she really could stay with me. Then she wouldn’t have been lying in case Kathan sent someone to check up on her. The idea of the Tracker creeping up on Desty while she was sleeping in the park or an alley really freaked me out. Being homeless sucks. I had tried it once for about a week before I moved in with Harper and Jax. You’d think it would’ve been the cold that got me since it was January, but it was the lost sleep. There was a lot of NP crap you had to put up with during the night if you were homeless around Halo.

  Desty sighed and rubbed her face with both hands. If anybody could use a good night’s sleep, it was her.

  The security light over Rowdy’s back door came on when we pulled up. Even with the windows up and the air on, the hot garbage smell leaked into the truck. It got stronger when Desty opened the door and hopped out. I had a quick fight with myself about pissing off broken ribs versus sitting in the air conditioning, but I ended up getting out, too.

  When I got around the truck, Desty had one hand on the wall and she was bent over, reaching behind the dumpster. I know she wasn’t trying to look hot, but with legs and a butt like that, even the bar-trash smell and the pain in my side faded. Sometimes a month really could feel like forever.

  Most of my brain was busy memorizing
the arch of her back and the curve of her butt for use later, but some instinct I’m really glad I have reminded me to adjust my tent pole before she stood up and turned back around.

  “What?” she asked, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

  I shook my head, but the top part of my cheeks started burning.

  She gave me a tired smile. “I hope you don’t play poker, Tough.”

  I made a sarcastic-laugh face. Poker? I barely know her. Then I took her backpack.

  “What—”

  I opened the passenger door up and held out my hand to help her in. She really must’ve been exhausted, because it took a minute before she got the message.

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I just couldn’t think of anything else to tell Tempie.”

  I tossed her backpack up into the cab and she cringed.

  “My computer’s in there.”

  I shrugged. Get in and I won’t have to do the same with you.

  “If there’s somewhere else—”

  I shook my head and gave her that Come on nod again.

  She just kept standing there, staring at me. I was starting to think I actually would have to pick her up and put her in the truck when she sort of fell into me. Her arms squeezed tight around my ribs. My eyes watered and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from jerking away.

  I must’ve made some kind of sound, or maybe Desty remembered on her own, because she jumped back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, but I probably didn’t look too convincing.

  “It just seems like forever since anyone—” Her bottom lip started shaking. “—since—” She tried looking up at the sky. “—since anyone—” But she couldn’t hold it in. She started crying.

  Shit.

  I don’t know if it’s the same way for other guys, but I have this problem with crying girls. One of the only things I learned from Dad before Kathan killed him was that it’s a man’s job to protect women. So, if a girl near me bursts into tears, it doesn’t just make me uncomfortable, it makes me feel like I screwed up, like I should’ve been protecting her from whatever made her cry.